“Silence!” said Charles sternly. “We’re not trying your case now.”
“No, sir,” said Simon humbly. “But if you’d just give your word—”
“The judge and the jury and all the animals, including myself and the prisoner,” put in Freddy, “have agreed that until the trial is over, no harm shall come to you. Am I right, Your Honor?”
“That was the agreement,” said Charles.
“Yes,” said Simon, “but will you give me safe conduct back to the barn after the trial?”
Charles was about to speak, but Freddy interrupted him. “Unless you commit some crime between now and the time the trial is over,” he said, “you’ll be allowed to go back with your family.”
This seemed to satisfy Simon, who, with an uneasy eye on Jinx, began to tell his story.
“At noon on August 7, I and my family were peacefully eating our dinner when we heard a great commotion in the loft. We rushed up through our secret passageways in the walls and, looking out from our holes, saw one of the most terrible sights we have ever witnessed. This cat, who now stands before the bar of justice—this wicked felon, whose vile sins have at last found him out—this evil—”
“Come, come, Simon,” interrupted Freddy, “get on with your story, and don’t call names.”
“Ah, forgive me, Your Honor,” said Simon, with a hypocritical leer at Charles, “for letting my feelings get the best of me. It is my hatred and loathing for such detestable crimes that has led me into saying more than I intended—”
“And if you say much more like that,” put in Jinx with an angry swish of his tail, “there’ll be a real murder to investigate in about two seconds. One good overhand swipe at you, you oily old rodent, and there’ll be one less at breakfast tomorrow morning under the barn!”
“Order!” shouted Charles. “Continue with your story, rat, and keep your opinions to yourself.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” said Simon with mock humility. “As I was saying, this—this cat had pounced upon a poor, inoffensive little crow and, when we had reached a point from which we could see what was going on, was tearing him limb from limb with unparalleled ferocity. We shouted, Your Honor; we called upon him to stop; but he merely grinned wildly and went on with his butchery. I sent one of my grandchildren to notify the police at once, but then there was nothing for us to do but watch until the horrid deed was done. We wept, Your Honor—I will not conceal it from you that in our horror and indignation, in our helplessness and in our sorrow for the fate of this wretched bird, we wept bitter tears. But they were as unavailing as our threats and warnings. The cruel and relentless animal was—” Simon stopped suddenly as Jinx leaped to his feet. “That, Your Honor,” he said hastily, “is my story.”
Following Simon came eight other rats who testified to having seen the same thing; then Charles took the stand and told of having been summoned to the barn, where he found Jinx, evidently terrified at having been discovered in his crime. Then, Freddy having said that he would like to cross-examine Simon, the rat again came forward.
“How large are the rat-holes that lead into the loft?” asked the pig.
“You’ve seen ’em; you ought to know,” replied the rat with a grin.
“That’s not what I asked you,” snapped Freddy. “Are they big enough for a cat to get through?”
“No cat ever got through ’em.”
“Just about big enough for one rat, then?”
“Just about.”
“And how many are there?”
“Three,” said Simon. “There ain’t any harm in my telling you that.”
“Oh, isn’t there?” said Freddy. “Well, will you tell me how nine rats, with only three holes big enough for one rat each, managed to see everything that went on?”
Simon snarled and twitched his whiskers. “Trying to make me out a liar, are you?” he demanded. “Well, let me tell you, smarty, that three rats can see out of one rat-hole all right.”
“How do they stand when they’re looking out?” asked Freddy. “They can’t stand beside each other, and if they stand one behind the other, how can they see?”
“How do I know how they do it!” snarled Simon. “They did it all right, didn’t they? You heard ’em say they saw it, didn’t you?”
“Sure, I heard ’em,” said Freddy pleasantly, and, turning to Charles: “That’s all, Your Honor,” he said.
Simon retreated under the buggy, where a chatter and squeaking of excited rat voices could be heard, while the jury examined the claws and feathers of the crow. Evidently Freddy’s questions had disturbed the witnesses somewhat, but they quieted down when Freddy announced that if the prosecution had no other evidence to present, he would like to call a few witnesses in the defense.
The first was Ferdinand himself, who testified that he did not know who the dead crow could be. So far as he knew, no crows had been reported missing within a day’s flight in any direction from the farm.
“At this time of year crows are not likely to fly more than a day’s flight in any direction, are they?” asked Freddy.
“No,” said Ferdinand. “But this crow might have been going on a visit to relatives in another district. It is probable that this was the case.”
“Crows don’t usually make such visits, do they?”
“No.”
“Have you ever known of a crow doing it?”
“No,” said Ferdinand, “but that’s no reason why one might not do it.”
“True,” said Freddy, “but I would say that it is possible, rather than probable, wouldn’t you?”
“Why, yes, perhaps,” said Ferdinand unwillingly.
“Thank you, that’s all,” said Freddy. “I will now call Eeny.”
The mouse took the stand and told how he had been sent by Freddy to inspect the writing-desks of all the neighbors within half a mile of the farm. At none of them had he found anything unusual or out of the way until he had visited Miss McMinnickle’s house. Here he had found signs that the ink-bottle had recently been overturned, and although Miss McMinnickle had evidently sopped up the ink and washed and cleaned the desk, the blotter on which the bottle had been standing showed several large blots, and the inky prints of many small feet. He had brought away with him a piece of this blotter, which Freddy presented to the jury for their inspection.
Freddy then called Prinny, Miss McMinnickle’s dog, who testified that on August 5 Miss McMinnickle had had chicken for supper. Charles shuddered at this, and his daughter Leah, who was perched on a beam over the jury-box, fainted dead away and fell with a thump to the floor. When she had been carried outside and order had been restored, Freddy said:
“When did you last see the claws of this chicken?”
“I object!” exclaimed Ferdinand, before Prinny could answer. “Your Honor, the question of what this Miss McMinnickle had for supper on the day before this brutal murder has nothing to do—”
“And I object, Your Honor,” shouted Freddy suddenly. “It is not yet proved that any murder has been committed, and I submit that Ferdinand is endeavoring to prejudice the jury.”
“Order in the court!” crowed Charles, as the animals surged closer so as not to miss a word of this clash between the opposing counsel. “You can’t both object at the same time! What did you object to, Ferdinand?”
The crow repeated his remark.
“I intend to show, Your Honor,” said Freddy, “that the question of what this lady had for supper has a very close bearing on the case. May I proceed?”
“Proceed,” said the judge, who was somewhat flustered and couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Freddy repeated his question, and Prinny said: “I last saw them on the rubbish heap on the morning of August 6.”
“And did you visit the rubbish pile later on the same day?”
“I did.”
“And they were there?”
“No,” said Prinny, “they had disappeared.”
Ferdinand did not cross-examine this w
itness, and Freddy then called Simon’s son Zeke. There was a flutter of interest as Zeke took the stand, and the animals pushed forward until Charles threatened to have the court-room cleared unless they were quiet. Even Archie opened his little eyes, which had been tight shut for some time, and stopped snoring.
“Now, Zeke,” said Freddy, “I suppose you are anxious to answer all the questions I ask you fully and truthfully?”
“Oh yes, sir,” said Zeke, opening his eyes wide and trying to look truthful, but only succeeding in looking as if he had a stomachache.
“Very well,” said Freddy. He paused a moment, then suddenly he glared at the rat. “Where were you on the morning of August 6?” he shouted.
Zeke looked startled. “Why, sir, I—I was at—home all day. Yes, sir, at home.”
“You were, eh?” roared Freddy. “And what if I tell you that I have witnesses to prove that you were not home?”
“Why, I might have been out for a little while, sir. I can’t exactly remember. I do go out once in a while.”
“You were out, then?”
“Yes, sir. I—I may have been.”
“Good,” said Freddy. “Now cast your mind back to the morning of August 6. You were out taking a walk, let us say. You went up along the side of the road to Miss McMinnickle’s house. Am I right so far?”
“Why, honestly, sir, I can’t remember. I was just out getting a little air. I might have gone up that way. I—”
“You might have gone that way?” said Freddy. “I suggest that you went directly to Miss McMinnickle’s house, to which you gained entrance through a cellar window. You then went upstairs and got up on the kitchen table and ate part of a ham—”
“Oh no, sir!” exclaimed the rat. “I wasn’t in the kitchen at all. I—”
“Shut up, you fool!” came Simon’s snarling voice from under the buggy, and immediately Ferdinand began fluttering his wings and shouting: “Stop! Stop! I object! Your Honor, I object on two counts. First, Zeke’s whereabouts on the day before the mur—I should say, the alleged crime—have nothing to do with this case. Second, Freddy is trying to intimidate this witness.”
“Objections not sustained,” snapped Charles. “Even if this rat’s whereabouts have nothing to do with the case, I guess everybody here wants to know what he was doing at Miss McMinnickle’s. And, second, if anything can be done by Freddy or any other animal to intimidate him, I want to see it done. Proceed, Freddy.”
“Oh, shucks!” exclaimed Ferdinand disgustedly. “That isn’t any way to try a case, Charles. Use a little sense, will you?”
“If you don’t like the way this case is being tried, crow,” said Charles with dignity, “you are at liberty to leave. This court will not be dictated to. I’m here to sentence Jinx, and sentence him I will, but I shall do it in my own way.”
“Perfectly satisfactory to me, Your Honor,” said Ferdinand.
“But it’s not to me,” said Freddy. “You are not here to sentence Jinx, Charles; you’re here to see that justice is done.”
“Well, justice is done if I sentence him, isn’t it?” demanded the rooster.
“Not if he’s innocent.”
“But he isn’t innocent,” exclaimed Charles. “Everybody knows that.”
“No free-born American animal,” said Freddy, “can be convicted of a crime until he is proved guilty. I appeal to the audience in this court-room. What should we do with a judge who condemns a prisoner before he has stood trial?”
“Depose him! Throw him out! Elect another judge!” shouted the animals.
“Order in the court!” screamed Charles. “My duty here is to give judgment—”
“You can’t give what you haven’t got!” called a voice. “You never had any judgment, Charles, and you know it!”
There was a shout of laughter, but Freddy stood up on his hind legs and motioned for silence, and the noise quieted down.
“I’m sure,” he said, “that our worthy judge spoke without thinking. He knows as well as you do that a prisoner is considered innocent until he is proved guilty. I merely wished to call attention to the fact that he is letting his dislike of Jinx interfere with his sense of justice. You see that, don’t you, Charles?”
“Oh, I suppose so,” replied the harassed rooster. “Get on with your trial, will you, and quit picking on me.”
“Very well,” said Freddy. “Now, Zeke, by your own admission, you were in Miss McMinnickle’s house on the morning of the 6th. Will you tell us what you did there?”
“You don’t have to answer that,” called Simon from under the buggy. “You don’t have to answer any question if you feel that the answer would tend to incriminate or degrade you.”
“All right, I won’t answer that,” said Zeke.
“You feel that the answer would incriminate or degrade you?” asked Freddy.
“Yes. A lot.”
“Good,” said Freddy. “Consider yourself incriminated and degraded, then. Ferdinand, do you wish to cross-examine this degraded witness?”
“No,” said Ferdinand crossly. “He hasn’t anything to do with this case. I’ve said that all along.”
So Freddy called two more witnesses. The first, a squirrel, testified to having seen a rat carrying a bird’s claw of some kind going toward the barn on the morning of the 6th. The second, a blue jay, testified that on the same day he had come home to his nest unexpectedly and had found two rats looking into it. He had flown at them and driven them away and had then looked about carefully, but could find nothing missing except a number of long feathers which had formed part of the lining of the nest. Later in the day he had seen two rats, who might or might not have been the same two, running through the woods carrying in their mouths a number of feathers of different kinds. They had evidently been gathering them for some purpose of their own.
The crowd, which could not see what all this had to do with the case and had been getting restless, became quiet again when Freddy announced that he would call no more witnesses, but would sum up his case for the jury.
CHAPTER XII
FREDDY SUMS UP
“I will show you, gentlemen of the jury,” said Freddy, “not only that Jinx is innocent of this crime, but that no crime has been committed. I will show you further that certain animals have been guilty of a conspiracy to deprive Jinx of his liberty and to cause him to be sentenced for this nonexistent crime.
“Now may I ask you to examine carefully the claws and feathers which are alleged to be those of a crow, killed and eaten by Jinx. You will remember that two chicken claws disappeared from Miss McMinnickle’s rubbish heap on the 6th, and that, by his own admission, Zeke was near that house at the same time. I suggest to you that those claws you have there are not crow’s claws at all, but the chicken’s claws, which were taken by Zeke or one of his relatives and placed in the barn.”
“But these claws are black,” said Peter.
“True,” said Freddy. “They have been colored black with ink. They were taken into the house by the rats who tipped over the ink-bottle on Miss McMinnickle’s desk while they were dyeing the claws. Here is a portion of the blotter taken from that desk. You will see on it the plain prints of rats’ feet.
“Furthermore, you have heard evidence to the effect that several rats were gathering feathers of various kinds in the woods on the 6th. Now please examine carefully the alleged crow’s feathers. I think you will find that they are of very different kinds. They are all black, true; but if you will smell of them and then smell of the ink-soaked blotter, you will find the two smells exactly the same. The smell, in fact, of ink. They have been dyed, just as the claws were dyed.”
Some confusion was caused by the efforts of the jury to smell of the feathers, which are very difficult things to smell of without getting your nose tickled. There was a tremendous outburst of sneezing in the jury-box, in the course of which the feathers were scattered all about the court-room, but when it was over and the feathers had been gathered together again, it was p
lain that the jury had accepted Freddy’s theory.
“I will ask you now,” went on the pig, “to remember several facts. There was no sign of a struggle in the barn, as there would have been if Jinx had actually caught a crow and eaten him there. The claws and feathers were laid out in a neat pile. Again, although there was only room in the three rat-holes for three rats to see what was going on in the loft, nine rats testified to having seen Jinx catch and eat the crow. Lastly, no crow is known to be missing, although, as all of you know, if one crow so much as loses a tail-feather, you will hear the crows cawing and shouting and complaining about it for weeks afterwards.
“Now, what happened was this, as you probably all see by this time. The rats wanted to get Jinx out of the way, so they could get a fresh supply of grain from the grain-box in the loft. They got the feathers and claws as I have shown you, dyed them black with ink, put them out on the floor, and then when Jinx came in, accused him of the crime. There is not a word of truth in their evidence. It is one of the most dastardly attempts to defeat the ends of justice which have ever come under my notice. I leave the case with you, confident that your verdict will free the prisoner.”
There was much shouting and cheering as Freddy concluded, and then Ferdinand rose to make his speech to the jury. He knew that he had a weak case, so he said very little about the facts. His attack was rather upon Freddy than upon the evidence that had been collected.
“A very clever theory our distinguished colleague and eminent detective has presented to us,” he said. “A little too clever, it seems to me. After all, it is the business of a detective to construct theories. But what we are concerned with here is the truth. We are plain animals; we like things plain and simple. Here is a dead bird, and beside it a cat. What is plainer than that? Do we need all this talk of ink and blue jays and chicken suppers to convince us of something that gives the lie to what is in front of our very noses? I think not. I think we all agree that two and two make four. I think we prefer such a statement as that to a long explanation why two and two should make six. With all due respect and admiration for the brilliance of the theory which Freddy has presented to us, I do not see how your verdict can be other than ‘Guilty.’”
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